Revaluate - The Cato and Clove Story
by somuchloveforharrypotter
Summary: One may say that we are the bad guys. Vicious and senseless, the people only see us as killing machines. In their eyes, we are perfect for The Games. But underneath the façade and the elaborate costumes, we are people. Thinking, breathing, human people with aspirations and wants of our own. People were quick to judge us but now it's time to put the record straight.
1. Chapter 1

Revaluate – The Cato and Clove story,

**HEY EVERYONE, **

**First fanfic wooo! I just wanted to say that I don't own the Hunger Games or any of the characters, all credit goes to the amazing Suzanne Collins and her incredible imagination. Just a little background on me, I'm 16 and from London which is why all the spellings are British English (favour, colour, centre ect) I know the book is originally American but I can't help it :P Thank you so much for reading this and I hope to hear from you guys soon ;)**

**Love Anna xxx**

One may say that we are the bad guys. Vicious and senseless, the people only see us as killing machines. In their eyes, we are perfect for The Games. But underneath the façade and the elaborate costumes, we are people. Thinking, breathing, human people with aspirations and wants of our own. People were quick to judge us but now it's time to put the record straight.

It is time to revaluate.

I, Clove, grew up in one of the – lets just say – not as well off parts of town. As the eldest of four brothers I was left alone to care for my family when my parents were killed in a stand-off with a group of peacekeepers. Life was hard to say the least. I watched as day by day my youngest brother Elan, only a baby at the time, grew thinner and thinner until his little belly bulged with crushing malnourishment that was eating him up from the inside. Aged just nine years old, I rooted through rubbish, finding scraps if I was lucky and a beating if I wasn't. As none of us were old enough, tesserae wasn't an option and no family took pity on the flea-ridden urchin and her squalling siblings who lived in the cellar of an abandoned house. I can honestly say that I don't know how I survived my first year as an orphan, nor how I managed to bring all my brothers with me, but we did. We survived.

On my tenth birthday, things began to look up. An old friend of my mothers, Ria, offered me a job. At first I was apprehensive. Where was Ria when my mother died? Where was she when we were starving? But eventually I realised that if I didn't trust her then we would be dead. I had no choice but to place my bony hand in her big fleshy one and let her lead me into a derelict warehouse. Ria told me that the warehouse used to be used to store ammunition made during the civil war. Of course when the rebels lost, the ammunition was seized by the Capitol and the old factories razed to the ground. But somehow this tasteless reminder to a nearly forgotton past remained.

Now, you must be wondering what Ria wanted with me and some of you will be assuming the worst, but no. The truth was worse than that. Ria, together with her husband Danor ran an illegal entertainment centre for the people on the shady side of the Law. The warehouse had been filled with bottles of liquid, of various colours. From rich amber to a lethal looking violet colour, I had never seen so much alcohol in one place. All four corners were stacked with the stuff, piled so high it would have taking four men standing on top of each other to reach the highest bottles. Several naked light bulbs protruded from the ceiling, providing little light from their damaged and worn filaments. This provided an aura of smoky mystery, perfect for the rotten deals of rotten people. Ria hits a hidden panel on the outside of the building and and a large spotlight begins to glare. The sudden transition from murky to radient blinded me but I felt Ria's fingers on my shoulder, guiding me to the centre of the room. When my vision cleared, I was faced with a view of elasticated ropes, supported by huge steel poles that were bolted to the ground. It looked like..

"A boxing ring?"

**Thank you again, I will update soon :)**


	2. Chapter 2

Revaluate – The Cato and Clove story, Chapter 2.

**HEY! **

**Sorry I couldn't wait, on with CHAPTER 2, yes, it's Cato's turn **

**Lots of love,**

**Anna xxx**

Yes, Clove had a horrible sob-story of a childhood and I'm sure you want to hear more about her time in The Warehouse but now it's my time to set the scene of my story. As I'm sure you've guessed by now, my name is Cato; the champion of District 2. Well that was my identity.

You see, I had a very different upbringing. I was the rich only son of Romulus Thread, Commissioner of all the Peacekeeping operations and Trainer of the Tributes. He had always seen me as his most important assets, but never a son. I know most of you are probably rolling your eyes and thinking "God, not another spoilt rich kid thinking he has problems" but honestly my Father never told me he loved me or even that he was proud. Personally, I think it was the lack of my mother's guiding hand that left him raging. His sorrow, instead of channelling outwards in a healthy way, was directed inwards and towards me.

You see, my mother died when I was just a baby, less than 3 months old. Her name was Marissa and she fell pregnant with me at a very young age, just 16. My father's friend Ria said that she and my father were deeply in love and had just got a house given to them by the government in which to raise their first born. But then the unthinkable happened. My mother was selected to represent District 2 in the 56th Hunger Games. My parents had agreed beforehand that if either had been chosen, the other would remain to take care of their son, but neither had even entertained the idea that it could happen. It was so improbable, so unlikely. But it happened. My mother fought so hard to return to me and my father. I have seen the tapes, in a blind effort to see if I could know her, even in the briefest and most horrible way. She was beautiful with long sandy blonde hair and green eyes but I could see the desperation in them, even over the grainy monochrome pictures and the emotion that swam in her eyes as she talked about her boy to the cameras. With each person she killed, she became more panicked. I could almost see the effect the trauma was having on her psyche. Finally, 2 hours later and in the final battle; she fell. Sobs wracked her body as she fell to the floor. Her opponent, Kyke, a huge 6ft 2 male from district 4 smiled in his victory and lifted his sword aloft, time slowed and I watched as, in one swift movement, he swung the sword down and beheaded my mother where she lay.

I guess you can't call that happy childhood viewing, but I had to know the truth.

**Thanks for reading, I will update soon.**


	3. Chapter 3

Revaluate – The Cato and Clove story, Chapter 3

**HELLO AGAIN!**

**We are on to Chapter 3. I'm sorry about the heart break in chapter 2. Can you imagine anything worse than watching one of your parents die on screen? No, me neither.**

**Hope you enjoy this chapter, we're heading back to Clove for a bit**

**Lots of Love,**

**Anna**

"Yes, lovely, a boxing ring" Ria replies. "you see, we'd love to give you an esteemed position in The Warehouse as a gladiator"

I gasped at the familiar word, back when my brothers and I went to school, we studied the Romans and the combat techniques of the time. (Now I think about we only seemed to study conflict and weaponry, every subject seemed to be focused on fighting – geography became the study of famous ancient battle sites, PE was purely wrestling and martial arts.

The Colosseum was one of my least favourite parts of studying the period. A horrific place where men would come to watch less fortunate men, the poor, the enslaved die for their pleasure. Now, I was fresh blood on the altar, a sacrifice to please the low-life that frequented this place.

_No, I can't do this! For God's sake, I'm only nine!_ I thought.

But then another thought struck my brain. The gladiators of old grew to be rich and famous, hell, one of them even became Emperor over all of Rome! I imagine myself as a rich woman with a huge house, maybe one similar to the mansions of Victor's Village! My brothers and I would never have to scrounge again! I could almost smell the freshly-baked bread and hear the sizzling meats.

Suddenly, becoming a gladiator didn't seem like such a bad idea.

"And what would being a gladiator entail?" I asked out loud, aware that my inner-battle had been raging for several minutes.

"Well, you would fight here, once a week against untrained children like yourself. You will be bare-knuckle fighting with no weapons but ingenuity is encouraged and the first player to be knocked out loses. If you win, you must stay here until 2am when The Warehouse closes, you will receive congratulations and gifts from the men who watched you, you will also get 2 gold coins. If you lose, however, you will return to your home immediately after and rest for your next fight and will receive no payment." Explained Ria, completely devoid of emotion. And then, a small flash of humility "_They just want a good show, that's all they want._" She said, softly.

I thought again, 2 golden coins was a meagre amount, barely enough for a loaf of bread. Then again, I think about what a loaf of bread will do to my family. It would revive them. It would give them hope.

And so, with no regard for my safety or well being, I agreed.

Then began my life as Clove a gladiator of The Warehouse.


	4. Chapter 4

Revaluate – The Cato and Clove story, Chapter 4

**HEY!**

**Sorry for the gap in between updates but I had a super long 2 day Harry Potter movie marathon with my two friends, which was pretty awesome **

**So anyways, chapter 4. For this one we're sticking with Clove and talking about her first ever fight. HOW EXCITING!**

**Lots of Love,**

**Anna**

I turned up for my first fight half and hour early, as instructed. A nervous mist had settled over my stomach from as soon as I had awoken that morning. What if I lost? I was only a scrawny 5ft 1inch girl and even soaking wet, I doubted I could weigh more than 50kg. What if I faced a 90kg giant? I would be crushed. My family wouldn't survive another week if I didn't earn anything or was too beaten to find food for them. I would die but worst still, I would drag my entire family into hell with me.

Ria was there waiting for me, she led me to warehouse 2 where it seemed all the props and even more alcohol was kept. This room was even less glamorous than the first. One smashed light bulb hung on bare wires from the wall that was somehow, miraculously, still glowing. It illuminated a small desk over which hung a musty looking diamante leotard.

"Get changed." Commanded Ria. All signs of empathy gone from her vaguely masculine features. "You're on in 22 minuites, after Cruss and Smith." With that she turned on her heel and marched out, leaving me with the darkness and my fears.

I quickly got undressed and slipped into the leotard. It fitted badly and would badly and would probably expose me when I fought. It was clearly a garment designed for a sexy curvaceous figure but it hung loosely off my starvation-formed bones. Upon closer inspection the material itself was stained in places from what looked like alcohol and a suspiciously grey coloured liquid; brain fluid? I hoped not.

I sat on the floor. I could hear cheering and cries of pain from the neighbouring warehouse.

Then I began to do what I do best; meditate.

From when I was very small, in fact or as long I can remember, I meditated in times of stress. I can calm down and install an almost death-like trance over myself. I can slow my heart rate down to almost nothing and in some cases, entirely separate myself from my body. I can literally look down on myself from above. Just let my conscience drift away. At first, this skill terrified me but now I have accepted that it is a useful way to keep myself sane in difficult times.

I must have maintained this state for a good quarter of an hour because I snap myself out of it when I hear footsteps approaching. They echoed loudly in the cavernous room, becoming an ominous death march.

I looked up and saw Daron, Ria's husband, towering over me. He was around fifty years old with cruel blue eyes and a withered face. His rough, ugly features were crinkled in an incredulous frown.

"Did you fall asleep? – unbelievable" He muttered. "Anyway, get up, lets have a look." He cast a judging eye over my thin staved body. His little eyes snapped up the sight of my frail frame. I felt ashamed and a need to cover my body with my arms, but I stood my ground, a defiant scowl etched on my face.

"You'll have to do" He concluded with a sigh. He grasped my arm a little too tightly and hauled my to my feet. He pinched my cheeks, hard, to bring forth some colour.

"There, maybe that will stop you looking so much like a goddamn zombie! Come girl, let's see what you're made of, hopefully stronger stuff than your parents"

As I entered the warehouse I was greeted by a pungent smell of unwashed bodies and alcohol. A loud cheer echoed somewhere to my left, I couldn't see whom it came from though the cigarette smoke and darkness. Suddenly wolf-whistles erupted as a large spotlight came to rest upon me.

"And here she is" came and amplified voice from the sound system I hadn't seen before. "Sweet as honey, smooth as milk but she sure does pack a fiery punch…It's the little wildcat…CLOVE!"

And with that I was pushed, flailing into the ring. My opponent was already leaning, relaxed looking, against one of the metal posts, I was clearly the underdog. I slowly raised my eyes from the dirty bare feet and..sighed with utter relief.

The boy opposite was around 8 years old with straggaly blonde hair that hung in his eyes. On his small, clearly under fed, body hung a crude leopard skin toga.

In that moment, I read his story from his light green eyes. His desperate situation. His starving family. His gravely ill father. I blinked and scolded myself. _How was I supposed to fight him if I was picturing his tiny malnourished sister, begging on the side of the road-NO! Was his situation any different to mine? We both needed this. But I need it more._

I hardened my resolve as the countdown from the speaker started. "3. 2. 1. FIGHT"

Before I could register anything, the boy ran at me and wrapped his legs around my waist. My face was in his hair and neck and I couldn't breathe. I shook, trying to dislodge the crazed boy but he only cling on tighter. By this point he had his arms around my neck too; suffocating me. I staggered around, topheavy under our combined waight, the strain setting in on my weak knees.

Just before I fell, my vision blurred from the lack of oxygen, I received a burst of strength. Finally my battle reflexes kicked in, accompanied by a wave of adrenaline like a stormy tide. With my brain going into shut-down, I gathered my strength and began to sprint. I covered the ground in a matter of seconds and then CRUNCH.

The boy and I had hit the steel pole on the opposite side of the ring, the one he had been leaning against before the match. Fortunatly, for me, the boy had clung onto my front and so, as we hit, he took the brunt of the force. I felt his head fall back with impact and ricochet off the cold metal. I heard I sickening crunching and snapping sound and I knew he had broken several bones.

His grip loosened enough for me to wriggle away from him as he slid down the pole into a cramped sitting position. I saw blood run down the side of his ear and his gaze landed on me. His looked, almost longingly, at me for a long moment and then his eyes flickered shut.

Everything had happened so fast, I didn't even notice the reaction of the crowd. I heard it now. Screaming and cheering for me, I even heard a chant of "CLOVE, CLOVE, CLOVE, CLOVE" from the very back of the warehouse. I had won.

I rejoiced, knowing that my family would not starve this week, but we could buy food for us, for Elan.

Then I remembered the injured boy's family, what would they do now? Then I thought, Who cares, survival of the fittest right? It was my family or his, shouldn't I just be happy it was me who won? Then I shook my head in disbelief, how could I think such things? Surely a life is a life and everyone is worth saving?

Just then, Daron came over the where the boy lay; crumpled on his side. Daron bent down and roughly grabbed the boy under his shoulders and hauled him away, but not before I saw the dent in the back of his skull.

**Thank you, will update soon.**

**I especially want to thank Clato 27 for becoming the first follower of this story; you are the best!**

**Lots of love **

**Anna xxx**


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